


The Story Thief

by ballpoint



Category: Marvel Adventures (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Tall Tales
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-18
Updated: 2012-04-18
Packaged: 2017-11-03 21:39:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/386243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballpoint/pseuds/ballpoint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony finds himself awake in a jail cell,  shackled to Loki.  The most surprising thing, it’s not a Tuesday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Story Thief

**Author's Note:**

> A word on the story: The word ‘Brer’ or Br’ er in various tales is a shortened honorific for ‘brother’. When telling the tales, some story tellers use 'brer' or 'brother' Anansi. Neither address is wrong. A great version of the story referred to in this fic can be found here
> 
>  
> 
> A big thank you goes out to tsukinofaerii for talking me down from the ledge. If it weren't for her, I wouldn't have finished today. Thanks to grand-duc for being a sport, and telling me where the story wasn't working for her. A huge thanks to mucca for organising the challenge. The illustration for this reverse bb fic was done by grand_duc, please go [here](http://grand-duc.livejournal.com/5216.html) and leave comment. 
> 
> Any mistakes are all mine.

[](http://s10.photobucket.com/albums/a116/jazzypom/?action=view&current=RBB.jpg)

_NYC police station- 52nd precinct, last week_

“Seriously?” Luke Cage raised his eyebrows in question as they stood in front of the nondescript grey-brown building. The sun warm on their heads and backs, the day more for dozing off in the park than springing their friend from the clink. “Stark is here?”

“Yes,” Steve answered, taking the lead as he pushed past Luke and Tigra to open the door. All three of them now dressed down in their ‘soft’ civilian clothing, blending into the crowds - save for Tigra’s tail that kept swishing from side to side. 

“And the press doesn’t know?”

“Ms Potts would like to keep it that way.”

The door, once opened, brought in the assorted noises of the police station. The murmurs of uniforms trading anecdotes with plain clothes policemen, the shouts of people as they were booked in. Tables and chairs in ordered rows, the sound of fingers click-clacking over various computer keys, punctuated by the odd sigh, sob, or swear word. Bits and pieces of conversation swirled around them like leaves in a wind. 

“An arrest isn’t a conviction, ma’am,” a uniformed officer said. 

“I still want my lawyer, and am not speaking until one gets here,” a smartly dressed lady in a suit responded, her arms folded across her chest. Luke and Tigra exchanged smiles. 

“Cop shop.” Tigra did that cross between a laugh and a purr which usually caught Luke off guard. “You miss it?”

“No,” Luke shook his head. “My brush with the law is handing criminals _over_ , and that’s it.”

Tigra shrugged, her shoulders moving under the trench coat she threw over her clothing as soon as they got word. 

“You’d think people’d notice us when we walk into a room,huh?.”

“When you’ve been around New York long enough, I guess we’re just part of the scenery.”

At this, Tigra struck a dramatic post, head back, tail a sultry S. 

“I’m more than just wall paper - hey!” she yelled, as a man shouldered past her, causing her to stumble, Luke held out his hand to catch her before she hit the floor. The guy didn’t even stop, just steadily made his way to the door. Tigra hissed, made to leap after him, but Luke gripped her shoulders a little firmer. “Easy, Tigra, we’re here to get Tony out, not to keep him company.”

“I only want to give him a piece of my mind,” Tigra said sweetly, as she batted her lashes at Luke. Luke only shook his head, as he angled his chin towards her hands, the claws out, and shiny. “Hmmm,” Luke only said, as he released her. Tigra blushed, as she pushed her hands in the pockets of her khaki trench coat. Luke wouldn’t want to hear this, but he had the mannerisms of his Mom down cold.

Steve brought his hand up to shoulder height, a signal for quiet, and Luke and Tigra exchanged amused glances. They could take Captain America out of the war, but never vice versa.

“He knows we’re at the 52nd precinct, right?”

“Sssh,” Tigra pressed a finger against her lips. 

“Sergeant Woytkowiak,” Steve greeted a short set stocky man who remained hunched over at his desk, fingers skimming over the keyboards with a quickness and grace one only expected from awkward teenagers. 

“Ah,” the officer nodded, as he pushed himself away from his chair, came around the desk to speak to the trio. “You’re here to collect Stark, right?”

“Yes, we got the call about an hour ago. We’d just gotten back from a mission off planet.”

“I thought the Avengers travelled together - like a pack,” Sergeant Woytkowiak said, as he gestured for them to make their way towards the cells.

“Sometimes, Mr Stark can’t get away.”

“Yeah,” Tigra smiled, batting her eyelashes at the uniform. “Life of a billionaire slash genius slash party animal. We’ll just grab him and get outta your hair, officer.”

“Not that I have much for him to get into,” Woytkowiak laughed with good humour, absently running his hand over his thinning plate. “But what about the other guy?”

“The other guy?” Luke and Tigra asked in chorus as they gaped at each other. Whipping out their Avenger comms, they started scrolling through their screens.

“Spiderman?”

“At the mansion, with Bruce.”

“Antman?”

“With Jan- they went off for a pizza.” A beat. “In Italy.”

“Get out. What’s wrong with _Dominoes_?”

“What’s _right_ with _Dominoes_?”

“Are you two finished?” Steve’s voice cut across the room.

“Um.” Tigra flushed as she tucked her communicator behind her back. 

“You can’t take those comms into the cells with you, so I’m gonna have to ask you two to stay put. Captain?” 

“Fine by me,” Steve gave a sharp nod of his head in affirmation. He cast his eye to Tigra and Luke, his eyebrows raised in question. 

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Tigra gave a crisp salute. 

With a shake of his head, Steve sighed. “Just- stay out of trouble.”

*****

A couple more strides down the hall, they passed various petty super criminals, waiting to be escorted to The Raft, and Steve ignored the invectives, and insults.

“When I get out of here, you will feel the power of... The Melter! Mwahahahaha!”

“You can’t keep me - us in here! Where’s the justice?” 

“Uh, Pisces? If you look at it, there is some sort of balance, in that according to this world, we have transgressed, and now we have to pay-”

“Shut up, Libra. Just, by the Realms of _Cosmos_ , can’t you just? Embrace being a villain? This one time?”

Sergeant Woytkowiak sighed. “Those two are always bickering.”

“Can’t you just change their cells?”

“Pisces isn’t ‘compatible’” -at this Sergeant Woytkowiak made mock quotation marks with his fingers-" with Virgo, nor Sagittarius, and the others are still at large. Anyway, they get processed soon, and here we are.”

Steve stepped forward, quickly taking in the picture before him. Tony seemed none the worse for wear, in one of those suits he wore, with white shirt - now soiled- and shoes scuffed with mud and soot. Steve aimed a look at Tony’s face, short of a stubble and bleary eyes he looked good. Satisfied with Tony’s condition, Steve scanned the room, eyes settling on Tony’s cell mate. Even without the helmet of brass and gilt, and his clothing shades of charcoal, Steve knew this guy.  


“Loki?”

At this, Loki raised his head, his eyes bright, hot coals against a pale face. Steve was struck by two things: one, normally Loki’s face was always creased in lines of amusement, even when defeated, he’d smile, swearing he’d trump them all at the next conquest. The second thing? Even more than the first? Tony and Loki appeared to be _chained_ to each other by the ankles.

Steve swivelled his head towards Sergeant Woytkowiak, and got into his face. Politely. 

“These men are chained?” 

The shock in the Sergeant’s face was enough for Steve to come to his senses. 

“Steve.” Tony’s voice. Strong, with that usual underlying tone of amusement. “That’s not the fault of New York’s finest, trust me.”

“Oh?”

“I’m going to let Loki explain this one,” Tony shook his head, an expression of disbelief written across his features. “No one will believe me.”

* * *

_Mandarin Oriental: Central Park, NYC. 08:00am, that same morning_

“O _kay_ , Pepper and Rhodey might just have a point,” Tony muttered to himself as his eyes slitted open. “I’m probably partying just a _liiiittle_ bit too much.”

Early morning, and he found himself slumped against a wall, head in hands. He remembered where he was, a room at the Mandarin Oriental. The day before, he booked out the rooms downstairs, where he hosted a party for five hundred of his closest frenemies. Knowing his limits, Pepper arranged for him to take a room at the hotel, where he had stumbled in, sat on the floor with the intent of moving towards the bed. Eventually. 

Opposite him two silhouettes, seated across from each other at the small breakfast table. One, he knew well: the long, recurved horns atop his head, the glint of gold as the gloves caught the morning light, a foot resting on his other knee. The other one, his shape kept flickering, like a flame caught in a cutting wind. Man. Spider. Dog. 

“Long ago,” said the other god - Tony assumed- the cadence of his words musical as steel drums. The lilt of his voice reminding one of sunshine and warmth, the swish of sea rushing on sand. “In the time where stories belonged to no one and everyone, the gods lived. Before man coaxed fire from stone, before the moon took her place in the sky, the gods lived. When Loki writhed from the venom of the serpent, the ground rolled and shook. At the end of days, it used to be told, Loki will smash the realms together, bringing the end of all things. Now, that story isn’t told, it’s just-”

“Explained away by science as earthquakes.” A snarl, a thump of a fist on the table. “A pretty tale no one believes.”

“I sympathise, but it isn’t my fault you have no more stories, Loki. That mine travelled across the seas to this New World, lived on people’s lips, because of circumstances. That doesn’t mean you trouble mine.”

“I do what I want.”

“Yes, us tricksters do,” the other god leaned leaned forward, elbows on the table, steepling his fingers, the points of his index fingers meeting under his chin. Two. Four. Six. Back to two hands and ten fingers.“Until we get caught. You have changed the tales, and I will have to change them back.” 

“And you’ll report my transgression to the All Father ?” 

“No.” A shake of the head, a snap of the fingers. Silvery strands of web spun around Loki’s feet, and hands. “We are tricksters, we do what we want. I will tie you to this mortal here, to keep you out of trouble.” A laugh at this one, as pleasant as the _swish_ of wind through palm trees.

“Why him?” Loki demanded harshly, as he angrily motioned towards Tony, with fingers splayed. 

“Because he doesn’t _need_ to believe, because he has made his own legend. What is a god to a non believer, Loki?”

Loki made to stand up, and Tony could _feel_ Loki’s motions, as if they were in his body, but _not_.His feet being pushed towards his stomach, his hands bracing himself against the floor, but it was not of his _own accord_. His body _twitched_ and twisted on a primal level, instinctively wanting to _shift_ forms. Change into - cow. The smooth curves of woman. The prancing mare. But could _not_.

Tony’s eyes were wide open now, fear chasing all the lassitude from his body. It was as if he had a delayed reaction, akin to a bad phone line. The emotion was not his, this bubble of fear as he (not him) tried to reach out and do magic, only to come up with a blank. 

“Hey, guys?” Tony tried to raise his hand, his eyes widening as Loki tried to fight it, but could not. 

“You dare to _shackle_ me to this... _mortal_? You will leave me here?”

“You’ll be out soon enough. Teamwork is a tricky thing, eh?”

Tony woke up now, completely, only to find himself seated on a bench, the space before him taken up by bars. Beside him, arms folded and jaw set, sat Loki.

Part Two

_Avengers Mansion, 890 Fifth Avenue, Manhattan, NYC. This Evening. 20:00 hours_

After the Avengers came back from Avenging, there was a much loved routine all followed. 

Dinner at the formal table, with supper served by Jarvis. China crockery, and silverware with napkins the size of small bed sheets. Normally, the meals were jolly, a mix of debriefing, served with humour about the events of the day. In addition, it was a time for the other members of the group who couldn’t be available for whatever reason, to get caught up. The air would be coloured by laughter and cheers and jeers. 

Not tonight. Not with Loki being there, him and Tony seated together, as if they were some sort of twins from Siam, unable to sit even a breath apart. To the rest of the table, the other Avengers sat in pairs, gawking at the god and man _together_ , and unable to come close. 

“Pass the salt, Loki.” 

Loki pointed at the salt shaker with his index finger. It turned into an imp, and on spindly legs, it ran towards Tony’s bowl, tiptoed on its edge, and with a bow, shook its head from side to side, sprinkling a plume of salt into Tony’s soup. 

“Anyone else for salt?” Tony questioned, only to be silenced by puzzled looks from everyone else. “I guess, that’s a no, then.”

“Mayhap you might be able to divulge why you and my comrade in arms are joined, Loki?” 

A flash of fire from Loki’s eyes, as he folded his arms across his chest. “That is none of your concern.”

“You are breaking bread with my comrades, and are cleaved to Tony as if bound by sorcery. Also, your majicks seem to tempered, somehow.”

“Again, _brother_ , that is not your concern.”

Thor turned to Tony, who only raised his hands, exasperated. “I can’t explain it. I’m not one for gods, nor monsters-” at this he nodded at Loki, now a constant presence at his side. “Present company excluded.”

Loki said nothing. His features remote and cool, his eyes lowered. He gazed at the bowl of vichyssoise, as if his future lay there.

“It seems that there’s more than one trickster god out there. It seems Loki just happened to run into the mac daddy of them all, and ticked him off.”

“I am listening.”

“Again, brother, that is none of your concern. I am bound here, until I am not.”

“But who’d do that, though?” Tigra asked between dainty sips of her soup. “You’re a god, right? A powerful one, and a trickster. Who’s trickier than _you_?”

A voice from the shadows, its timbre soft as the rustle of wind through the trees, answered. 

“That would be me.”

The Avengers turned as one, as if their heads were on the same body, towards the direction of the voice. Its origin came from a trim, well dressed man of colour, clad in a dark suit as he stepped from mid air into form. As he strolled into the light, the shadows thrown by his body on the richly papered wall shifted. The silhouette of dog, howling at the moon. Flowed into a tiger on the prowl; head low, its tail a lazy swish. A blink, became the delicate etching of a spider’s web. His shadows, ever shifting, ever changing, as he moved into their view. A young man, skin as black and soft as the unmolested night sky, his accent musical, his words distinct, crisp as new bills. His eyes as old as the stories told. 

“I persuaded Nyame, the god of sky, to bring rain and light to the world of men, and came away in one piece. In my realm, all stories belong to me.”

“Brer Anansi,” Thor greeted, hand over heart, head bowed. Tony blinked, as he remembered that voice, but Loki had never addressed the god by name, like Thor did.

“Thor, half brother to Loki. Son of the All father of your realm. I wish we had met under... more _favourable_ circumstances.”

Thor raised his eyebrows, and speared a glance in Loki’s direction. “What transgression has Loki committed against your person?”

Anansi sat down in the chair Jarvis brought over for him. He accepted the offer of food and drink in front of him as if it were his due, but did not touch. But then again, Thor knew, that’s what gods did. 

“First, of all,” Anansi raised his hand, fingers flexing and throwing shadows against the wall. The shadows became sentient, skipping away from Anansi’s machinations, shaping into a picture. A tree, a river, the forms of Anansi, the spider, and the more powerful stripes outlining the form of Brer Tiger as they stopped at a river, the trees shading them from the sun. "A story."

One great hunger time, down by the Blue Hole. Sun hot - its rays sizzle against the skin, forcing you to take shelter where you can. Brer Tiger and Brer Anansi are under the shadow of trees, seated on the river bank. Tiger has a pot of stew bubbling on the fire, the air fragrant with salt meat, seasoned dumplings and spices. 

“Nutmeg,” Brer Tiger puts in a pinch. 

“Some salt, and yam.” At this, he stirs the pot with a wooden spoon, because the stew will be delicious. After a hearty sniff of the fumes, he looks Anansi, straight in the eye, and says, “My wife made this for me, after a hot day working. There will be no stew for you, Brer Anansi.”

“I’m not a stew man myself, Brer Tiger,” Brer Anansi says. “I only came by to swim. Today is hot, no true, Brer Tiger? A little swim will do us well.”

“A swim?” Brer Tiger sucked the spit from his teeth without rancour. “I don’t want to swim.”

“For you to cool down, man. You can’t eat stew right now, when you’re so hot. Swim in the river and cool down.”

“Feh, and leave you here with the stew? You think I am stupid, Brer Anansi?”

“Brer Tiger, what a thing to say. We are friends, no true? I will swim with you, and to make sure, we will dive to the bottom of the river, get a rock and come right back up. Then you can have your stew, eh?”

Brer Tiger agreed, because truth be told, the sun was hot, to the point of discomfort. A swim would suit him fine. 

“Each of us will grab a rock from the river, and come up.”

“Of course, Brer Tiger. Of course.”

With a mighty roar and splash, Brer Tiger dived into the water, leaving Anansi by the river bank, eyeing Brer Tiger’s stew. It smelt mighty fine, and Brer Anansi held the spoon to his lips. “Just a taste,” he said to himself. A taste became another and another and another and - Anansi ate the entire thing. 

“Oh dear,” Brer Anansi said, because he knew Brer Tiger would be upset and eat him up- if he knew Anansi had eaten the stew. “How I gwine get out of this now?” he asked himself, as he ran off, taking the empty pot with him. 

On his way home, he cut through Capucine village, where the Capucine monkeys lived. The village surrounded by a thicket of trees, offering shade and shelter from the sun hot, and Brer Anansi wiped his brow. 

Capucine monkeys were small, nimble things, who always liked to dance and sing. They always liked Brer Anansi, because he always had a story and song to share. 

“Brer Anansi!” They greeted, skipping, running and circling him. “What do you have for us today?”

“For you?” 

“Not food,” a small monkey said, quickly nipping the pot from Anansi’s grasp, as he ran up the tree with it. 

“Just you two long hands,” said another monkey, as he tugged at Anansi’s shirt, and Anansi slapped their hands away. 

“I have...” Brer Anansi began, an idea beginning to form. “A song! I have a song, and all the animals have been singing it for the past week.”

“A new song?”

“You mean,” Brer Anansi placed his hands akimbo, his face a look of surprise. “You don’t know the song? ‘Tiger’s Stew’?”

“Noo, oh no!” The monkeys shook their heads, shocked that they were a week behind with the song. “Tell us, teach us the song.”

“Well...” Brer Anansi hedged, as if he were unwilling, and his seeming reluctance made the monkeys wild with want. 

“Tell us! Teach us!”

“All right, then,” Brer Anansi said, “this is the song...”

***

Evening fall, and Brer Anansi leaned against the wall of his house, smoking his pipe. When he heard Brer Tiger roaring his name, he feigned surprise.

“Brer Anansi!”

“Yes, Brer Tiger?”

“Don’t ‘Yes, Brer Tiger’, me. Where is my stew?”

“Your s-s-stew, Brer Tiger?”

“Yes, the one I left on the river bank, when I dived to collect a river stone at the bottom!” At this, Brer Tiger hurled the rock after Brer Anansi, who ducked in time, feeling the whoosh of wind against his face.

“I don’t know where your stew was, Brer Tiger. When I came up from the dive, I saw that the pot was gone, and I ran off, thinking that it was you who ate it and then left without leaving me some.”

“Me, Brer Anansi?” Tiger got on all fours and roared, causing the air to tremble. 

“Yes, Brer Tiger, I thought it was you.”

“Hmmph!” Brer Tiger said. “You owe me stew, Anansi. I want my stew.”

“Okay, okay,” Brer Anansi agreed. “Why don’t you go to Capucine village and see-”

“ _We_ , Brer Anansi,” Tiger said, motioning to Anansi to get on his shoulder. “I will not let you leave my sight.”

As they drew nearer to the village, there was the sound of drums in rhythm,voices in chorus. Brer Anansi made a great show of placing his hand to his ear. “Did you hear that, Brer Tiger? Are they... singing about you?”

Brer Tiger drew closer to the village, and yes, he too could hear the lyrics. 

_This lunch time I ate Tiger’s stew/ Tiger’s stew/ Tiger’s stew/ this lunchtime I ate Tiger’s stew/ and Tiger never know_

Their lyrics goaded Brer Tiger into action. With a rage filled roar, he said, “You ate Tiger’s stew, and so Tiger is going to eat you!”

The Capucine Monkeys screamed, darting into the trees, as Brer Tiger leapt and sprang and snapped, almost catching little monkeys between his teeth. 

“No, Brer Tiger!” The monkeys wailed, “we didn’t eat your stew. Brer Anansi taught us the song, because he says that’s what the rest of the animals were singing!”

The silence after those words stole into the air, made it still, as Brer Tiger considered what the monkeys had said. 

They had not stolen the stew. So, who...?

“Brer Anansi!” Tiger roared, as he turned around, as if he were chasing his tail, but Anansi already jumped off Brer Tiger’s back, and ran into a tree. 

“Brer Anansi!” Tiger roared again, and Brer Anansi scurried into the corner of the branches, spinning his web, his fear making the strands sticky, so that he wouldn’t fall from the tree into Brer Tiger’s snapping jaws. “Brer Anansi, come down here!”

Brer Anansi never came down, and up to this day, this is why spiders spin their webs in the high corners of the house. Because of Brer Anansi’s trick on the monkeys, this is why they live in trees. Jack Mandora, mi no choose none.”

“Wow,” Jan said with a smile, as she made to clap. “That’s a -”

“No,” Anansi raised his hand, and Jan stopped in mid clap, allowing her hands to fall on her lap. “That is how the story is supposed to go. I am supposed to be able to hang from the trees, and walls. Or was,” his face set into stern lines, as he turned towards Loki, his eyes narrowed into slits. “Until Loki came into my realm, and changed the story. Monkeys now walk on the ground, spiders do not hang or swing from the walls. I shouldn’t have to tell you the gravity of this transgression, Odinson.”

“No,” Thor shook his head.

“So that’s accounting for the hinky trick of my powers then?” Spiderman piped up, his mask raised half way. “They haven’t been - working for the past week, and it’s because of -” he pointed a spoon towards Loki. “Him?”

“Shall I arrange an audience with the all father? I assure you that Loki’s actions do not reflect the views of Asgard.”

“No,” Brer Anansi shook his head. “The tale will unfold, soon enough. Tricksters, “ he smiled at Loki, now. “We have our own ways of getting back, don’t we?”

Loki didn’t smile, if it were not for the mere fact that he breathed, one would have thought Loki might have been stone himself.

“Brer Anansi, what have you done?” Steve gestured to Tony and Loki. 

“A trick,” Brer Anansi smiled as he rose, as smooth and silent as shadows. “Just to keep Loki out of my hair long enough, while I turn a deed into myth, tie it to songs and history.”

“Wait, wait a minute,” Tony raised his hand, flinching when Loki raised his hand too. “You’ve tied him to me.”

“Of course, Mr Stark.”

“But-”

“Teamwork is its own trickery, isn’t it, Loki? Jack Mandora, mi no choose none.” At this, Brer Anansi smiled, as he melted into the corners, his suit and body disappearing into the shadows, his teeth the last they saw of him as they disappeared. 

“Jack Mandora,” Tony rubbed his chin with his fingers, as he kick slid out of his chair, got to his feet and started to pace. 

“Tony?”

“I’ve heard that phrase before.. wait.” Tony held up a hand for silence, as he left the room, hurried to the study. 

“Wait, you knock kneed oaf!” Loki stumbled after him. Tony ignored him, as he turned left to the Avengers’ study. Normally, the opulence of the room would have stopped him in his tracks - rich, thick Aubusson rugs that absorbed their footfalls, the walls lined with books of varying colours and sizes from floor to ceiling. Tony did not care for that, as he saw what he was looking for - the PC having pride of place on the desk top. Tony slid into the chair, raised an eyebrow when he heard a loud ‘thump’ on the floor beside him. 

“Sorry,” Tony said, fingertips flying over the keyboard as he typed in MoCADA, and brought up the events page. Before he even saw the various banners of events, he remembered. 

- _MoCADA last week, 19:00 hours_

“Jack Mandora, I choose none!” 

Cheers greeted the end of that sentence, chubby hands waving and clapping. . The children were all seated on mats, and in the middle of the circle, the woman stood up, curtseyed, her skirts swishing and falling around her legs like layers of tissue paper. The applause only grew louder. Tony checked his watch, and started to edge towards the door. 

“Tony,” Pepper hissed, voice filled with reproach. “Where are you going?”

“Outside, to-” Tony held his glass up, as he kept on walking towards the exit. 

“Happy won’t be waiting out there. I told him not to come back before ten.”

“So, I could.. what? Listen to- what am I listening to, again?”

Pepper closed her eyes, and Tony recognised the expression. The one where, if she had not been his PA, she’d give him a black eye. He could almost hear her praying for calm, and taking advantage of that, he did a quick look around. The Museum of Contemporary African Diasporan Arts did good work, and Pepper being Pepper, well- she just liked a good story and a good cause. Tony pretty much showed up where his accountant and PA did. 

“Anansi stories, Tony. You’re listening to _Anansi_ stories.”

“In this day and age, Pep? With science and discoveries? Instead of telling them how stars are formed, by clouds and dense matter collapsing under their weight, they get tales about a girl throwing embers into the sky and how that became the Milky Way. Or the turtle got cracks in his shell because he fell from a tree, or something. I didn’t hear the rest of it. All because of a stupid Spiderman- god. I thought we left the caves behind.”

“Way to be dismissive, Tony. Just because you don’t think stories aren’t on the same level of _Scientific American_ , doesn’t mean you should mock..”

“I didn’t-” Tony raised his hands, lowered them in an aborted gesture of discomfort, absently looking at the children being guided to tables to the far edge of the room, where various foods were displayed. Dancing fruit telling the children to eat their five a day, and he recognised Rhodey, standing behind the table, dressed down in bomber jacket, and jeans. Good old Rhodey, handing out food on paper plates and napkins with a smile for each child. 

“Hey, that’s Rhodey.”

Pepper glanced in Rhodey’s direction, the lines around her eyes and mouth softening the longer she looked at him. “Yeah. He wanted to volunteer tonight.”

“You don’t think he believes in- what’s his face, do you?”

Pepper, he noted, didn’t do what she normally did when they tended to reach this impasse. She did not face palm. Nor did she count to ten, or swallow hard, eyes wide, aiming to please. Good, she was beginning to understand him. Pepper stood with her smart phone in her hand, clad in a deep blue suit that made her hair and eyes pop. 

“Before science, there was myth, Tony. An explanation for things unseen, a guide against the unknown. There’s no harm in believing, just for a little while, that there’s someone playing tricks for the hell of it.”

Tony checked his watch. Eight o’ clock. 

“So...when’s Happy coming by again?”

Pepper turned on her heel and stalked off, muttering shocking invectives under her breath. Tony took a sip of his drink. Any day he didn’t get a rise out of his PA, was a day wasted, in his opinion. 

A blink and Tony came into right now, and shook his head. “Really?” he said at last. “Really? Anansi is _real_?”

“As real as I am,” Loki grumbled from his seat on the floor. His legs drawn towards his body, his elbows resting on his knees, his fingers dangling in the air. He made an utter picture of dejection, as he waggled his fingers, only for glitter to spurt from their tips, falling to the floor. 

“Son of gun.”

Part Three

- _600 ft over NYC. 17:50 hours_

[Alpha scan: Avengers fighting --- scanning--- trolls in SoHo. Co-ordinates--]

“Trolls?” Tony’s question to his system rhetorical, as images and their dimensions scrolled across his retinas. He tried to bank to his left, but it wasn’t easy, not when you had an unwilling passenger in tow. 

[Warning : accuracy of manoeuvres sixty five percent]

“Any of them friends of yours?” Tony’s eyes slid over to his unwilling companion. Arm around his neck, sure, but the frigid slant of his body screamed DO NOT WANT, and when he spoke, his voice as harsh as the lands he hailed from. “I assure you, Stark,” Loki raised an eyebrow. “I have nothing to do with those... _things_ below.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be half troll? I remember coming across that.”

“Are we discussing my lineage, now? If so, we don’t need to be here then, do we?” Oh, and didn’t the mercury in that statement drop to _zero_ degrees. 

“No, we’re trying to do this... teamwork thing.” Tony banked left, only to find himself and Loki spinning around completely. 

[Descending, two hundred feet, 6. 5 seconds. Warning, sudden descent-]

“Yadda, yadda, squish on pavement. Bad, I get it.”

“Can’t you fly this... _thing_ , Stark?”

“Obviously, you being on my boot compounds this.”

“I have been - _on your boot_ for the past week.”  
“That says much about your skill.”

 _Buzz off_ Tony wanted to say. Only for his armour to _helpfully_ pull up images with Loki and Tony over the past week. 

Monday: Crashed through the walls of the Wall Street Exchange, Loki and himself tangled with The Charging Bull. The statue on Wall Street, not the actual villain. No, that happened on -

Wednesday: Iron Man in front of The Charging Bull. Villain, rushing at them, nostrils flared, gathering speed along Broadway. “Allow me,” Loki, opened his hand and gestured- only to wrap them both in a _red cloak_. It took Tony’s rocket boots to get them out of the path in time. Barely. 

Thursday: Loki and Iron Man- “Cut it out,” Tony dismissed, not wanting to see anymore. 

[Advisory: when calculating acceleration, where F is net force applied to mass, please note-]

“Loki on my boot throws everything out the window,” Tony said in grim tones. “So,” he righted his armour, got the Avengers back into view, changed his direction towards Greene Street. “We’re just going to have to punch right on through.”

 

- _66 Greene Street_ , SoHo, NYC, 18:00 hours

“Guys, you know the next time when we’re called in to deal with trolls, remind me that they might be magic, mmkay?” Spiderman cracked, as he sprayed a full load of webbing in a troll’s direction. 

“Ugh, these things are _ugly_ ,” Tigra ducked her head to the right just in time, missing a fierce swipe from the troll’s paw, her hair rippling in its wake. On first look, one would have said the trolls were designed from stone by an inept, blind committee. Their knuckles trailed on the ground, heads shrunk into hunched shoulders, as if the bridges they lived under offered no room for growth. In the city lights of New York at twilight, they were oversized stone beasts come to life: tiny eyes, their locks seemly twisted from mud, rotting branches, leaves and twigs. However, their speed belied their looks, as they were fast, and nimble. 

“Eww, _gross_ , I thought trolls only existed online.” Jan pulled at a troll tangled in her hair. Even in her form as giant girl, that didn’t deter them from trying to overpower her.

“Like they say, you learn something new everyday,” Captain America swung his fist, connected to the jaw of a troll, and sent it flying into a pile of dustbins. 

“Look at that shop, it’s really _cute_.” Jan said, her voice booming as she crouched down to peer through the bevelled windows, casting an avaricious eye on the sweetly designed dresses inside. “Oh! I like what Raf Simmons is doing this year... stop it, you guys.” She scolded the handful of trolls squirming in her grasp. 

“Now is not the time,” Ororo spread her arms in an elegant gesture, as she called the elements to her command, her cloak whipping wildly, like a loose sail in a squall. With her powers of flight, she hovered high up over the Avengers, taking in the scene below. Trolls - yes, the misshapen forms who lived under bridges in fairy tales- were all over Lower Manhattan. Running around, screaming and snatching at children from strollers, or their mother’s hands. 

“ _Mommmmmm_!” A little girl screamed, torn from her mother’s embrace. The troll wrapped its arms around the squirming, frightened child, and started to run - more a zig zag- like a lizard on hot sand. 

“Tabitha!” 

The mother’s screams gave the troll an extra boost to its speed as it scurried down Greene Street, turned at the corner of Spring Street. It narrowly avoided being hit, as cars swerved to get out of its way. The air suddenly filled with screams of people, of tires, shredding against tarmac. The shatter of glass as metal screeched against metal curled in the air around them. 

“Pardon me.” A fist smashed into the troll’s face. The blow so forceful, its features crumpled around its form. “I don’t think this belongs to you, son.” Luke planted his feet to the ground as he swung in with an uppercut, its force such that the troll loosened its hold on the child, allowing Spider man to swing in, and snatch the child from its grasp. 

“Amazing Spider Man to the resc- wha?”

The web to gave in his hands with a snap. “Oh, hey, what?” Spiderman twisted, rolling his body to the ground, so that Tabitha could bounce on his stomach. 

“What happened to my webs?”

“Take cover!” Ororo’s voice rang with command from above. “I’m going to try and -”

A solid _WHUMPF_ as something rammed into her back, causing the air to whoosh out of her lungs. Without her powers, Ororo started to fall from her vaulted height, her inert form gathering speed as she plunged towards earth. 

“Storm!” Captain America’s eyes were wild, as he vaulted over over a troll. With a mighty throw of his shield, he tore a line through a knot of trolls, knocking them over like bowling pins at the end of a solid strike with a ball. He took no notice, as he jumped on a troll’s back, somersaulting and grabbing- the structure of a fire escape. He had to get at her, he knew. He had to _try_.

The slap of wind sent him sprawling to the ground, a fork of lightning tore the sky in two, a mini cyclone appearing from mid air, a focused whirl of air to catch Storm, and hold her there. 

“Do not bestir yourself, Captain. It is all in hand.” 

The boom of thunder underscored his words, causing the world to shake. Shards of lightning quadrilled the sky, cutting its darkness into shreds. Steve threw his hand over his face. 

“Strike now, comrades,” Thor directed. “They have been momentarily transfixed to stone. Do not hesitate.”

“It’s clobbering time!” Tigra shoved at the shoulder of a petrified troll, so it fell to the ground, crumbling to stones and ash. 

“Don’t let ol’ blue eyed Grimm hear you saying that,” Spider Man quipped from his position on the wall of the shop Jan had been admiring. He shot streams of webbing at two forms of trolls, petrified by lightning, and with a yank, they crashed to the ground, again, crumbling into stone and ash. 

Oh yeah, his webs were working now. “He has the phrase trademarked. Even on shirts. Oh yeah, my webs are working now.”

“Okay,” Tigra rolled her shoulders, her mouth a _moue_ of thought. “What about, ‘Let’s get dangerous’?”

“Keep trying.” Spider Man quipped, only to find himself unable to keep his grip on the wall. “H-hey! What’s going _ooonn_?” _Why weren’t his Spidey senses going off like a klaxon on speed?_

He yelped, twisting his body in mid air, as it hurled towards the ground. Tigra bounded, catching him mid leap. “My hero,” Spider man said, throwing his arms around her neck, but Tigra had weightier matters on her mind. 

“How about, _Go, go, power rangers_?”

“Stop making words.”

***

Tony groaned, every shift of his body an _announcement_ of pain, as he tried to roll over to his side. Across his visor, his suit started running its status. Minimal damage to the suit and systems themselves, thank goodness, and although they shielded him against the shock of being smacked into the ground, his body still ached. Oh, he would feel it tomorrow - and Tony tried to drag himself up, before he realised - again- technically he was not alone.

Loki, joined to him by - Tony’s mind skittered away from the thought, as his eyes fixed on the boots in front of him, the scarlet cloak that seemed to flutter in its own wind. 

By the set of his face, Tony could see that Thor was not amused. Darn, he’d hoped to clean this mess up before Thor had come back from whatever business Scandinavian deities did on their time off. 

“Tell,” Thor crossed his arms, glaring at Tony and Loki as they struggled to get up from the street. “What manner of japery is this? My brother, and you, Iron Man?”

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Tony pushed himself to his knees, feeling Loki’s form scrambling to mimic his. Across the road from himself and Loki, he noticed Luke behind the wheel of a garbage truck; Spiderman on the curb, waving, as he guided Luke into reverse. Jan, still as giant girl, scooped up the rocky remains of the trolls, putting them into heaps, like a giant girl playing in a sandbox.

“Brother?”

“You have my assurances,” Loki bit out, adjusting his head gear so that it sat, just so. “This state of affairs brings me no joy.”

Thor turned towards Steve. “Will you be more forthcoming with your rendering of the tale?”

Steve sighed, as he hitched his shield on his back. “Let’s go the mansion, we’ll talk there.”

*****

“Until you two work it out, you can’t come out with us, bub.”

“Wolverine,” Steve began, as he dragged his cowl from his head, and rubbed at his flattened, sweaty hair. “You can’t-”

“Listen, Cap,” Wolverine pointed a claw in the direction of Tony and Loki. “They have no use in the field with us, as is. Not unless crashing through Wall Street is the best at what you do, bub.”

Tony, Loki, Steve and Logan were in the debriefing room, watching the replay of the fight that they had with Dr Jekyll, the Slitherer, and just a bunch of minor super villains looking for a quick payday. Skullbuster threw a truck in Tony’s direction, and Tony threw his palm out, only for the beam in his repulsors to turn into butterflies. 

“Loki!” Tony hissed, as he tried to shrug him off. Loki unable to move from the patented ‘hug and fly’ that Tony and Steve used to do. Steve realised, that he missed the hug and fly. Storm’s method was more efficient, truth but, he sighed, watching the rest of the fight. 

Loki tried to throw a hex, but didn’t, and Storm saved the day, by propelling them to the other side of the road with a gust of wind, while she called down the lightning from the sky, causing Skullbuster to throw her hands to her face, with Tigra jumping her from behind. 

“Steve, buddy, pal,” Tony pleaded, his hands outstretched. “C’mon, don’t do this to me, don’t leave me- with him.”

Loki sulked, as he sat down. Tony yelped, crashing to the ground, because Loki took the only chair. 

“Logan has a point,” Steve finally said, gesturing with a thumb towards Wolverine, the latter slinked from the debriefing room, muttering something about food. “A part of teamwork is knowing exactly what each of us can do, without having to second guess. Every time you two are in the field with us, one of us has to be compensating for your lack.”

“ _Steve_.”

“Tony,” Steve shook his head, eyes sad. “Logan’s right. As things stand right now-”

“We can work something out, can’t we?”

“Not if it means putting civilians in danger, Tony. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

“Just,” Steve sighed, gave a quick shrug of his shoulders. “We’ll be back, soon, okay?”

The door closed with a click. 

“We’ve tried everything.” Restless now, Tony jumped up, started to pace the room, only to feel the tug as Loki got up and kept in step with him. He could never get used to the _weirdness_ , of Loki’s movements being fraction of a second behind, just out of step with each other. 

“I’ve read almost every West African fable out there, and a fair bit of Scandinavian myth,” Tony hauled himself over to the Avengers mainframe, with Loki struggling in step, and started to type in as much key words as he could think about and gave Loki an arch look. “Still no closer to dropping you like a bad habit.”

“Your sense of humour is Midgarian crude, Stark. Not that one expects any less from your kind.”

“You know, what, Loki? If you could just take the poker from your-” Tony began, before he stopped, took a breath and back tracked. Being angry helped no one, he realised, So, let’s just take a step back, and try a new approach.

“Right, we’re not making any headway here.” Tony said, his fingers flitting over the keyboard, his eyes trained on the screen, as various personas from the Anansi stories took shape. “Now, I’m not really _au fait_ with gods and their powers, but I do know that words _mean_ things. I’ve been through that story Brer Anansi regaled us with but- “ Tony broke off when Loki’s laugh rang through the room. 

“Care to share with the class, Loki?” Tony said in clipped tones, as he dropped his hands from the keyboard. 

“You are trying to find meaning in a trickster’s tale.”

“Whoa, am I missing something?” Tony turned his hands up in supplication, because Loki wasn’t making sense. “Aren’t all tales supposed be imbued with meaning? Told to guide, to keep people on the straight and narrow? To put in a book and given to those as words to live by?”

“Some tales, yes.”

“Wow, we agree on something.”

“A fair bit of myths are, it’s true,” Loki continued as if Tony had not spoken. “But a trickster’s tale... is a trickster’s tale. You exchanged them for coin, for admittance into a peasant’s house, when shadows bought uncertainty and treachery, and company was welcome. Nothing more.”

“How did you change Brer Anansi’s story, anyway?” Tony asked, voice bare with honest curiosity. 

Loki smiled. 

 

 _On that one hot hungry day, when Brer Tiger jumped into the water on Brer Anansi’s dare, he swam down towards the river bottom, to grab a rock from its bed. From the corner of his eye, he saw a fin. Normally, Bear Tiger would have ignored it, but the fish was a cunning combination of green and gold. The fish’s fins tickled its muzzle, and Brer Tiger flicked it away, only for the fish to dance into Brer Tiger’s view again. Normally, Brer Tiger would have ignored the fish, but this one’s colouring was stunning. Gold and green, overlain with veils of iridescence. It zoomed towards the surface, and Brer Tiger swam in its wake, only for the fish to jump out of the water. Brer Tiger followed it, flopped to the raised bank, and found his eyes and Brer Anansi’s eyes making four_. 

_“Brer Anansi!” Brer Tiger roared, as he pulled himself onto the bank, with Brer Anansi dropping the spoon into the pot of stew. “Brer Tiger, have mercy!” Brer Anansi squealed, as he made himself grow smaller in a blink of an eye. Brer Tiger snapped and pawed at the ground, unable to catch Brer Anansi. Brer Anansi scurried into a crack in the ground, and burrowed himself there. Frightened, he spun a cocoon around himself and stayed there until nightfall, when Brer Tiger retired to his home._

_This is why fishes fly from the water in the afternoon, Tigers never swim for long in water, and spiders burrow in the cracks when sun hot, never coming out til nightfall._

_These are Loki’s tales._

Tony raised an eyebrow, giving Loki a look from the corner of his eye. “You changed a god’s story? Isn’t that bad, like crossing the streams, bad?”

“Trickster gods... we do what we want, until we get caught. Once we do, we are susceptible to the other’s whim. These are the rules.” 

“And you got caught.”

“And I got caught.”

“Right, and Brer Anansi’s whim is... you and me? Should I worry about his interests being prurient, here?”

“No, you still don’t understand.” Loki’s eyes flashed with frustration. “The old stories, the old ways. Men don’t believe in them anymore, especially a man of your … leanings.”

There was something _here_ , Tony realised. “You’re not giving me the entire story, here, Loki.”

“It’s not mine to give, Stark,” Loki made a gesture with his hand, only to come up with a bouquet of roses. With a noise of disgust, he hurled them to the ground, crunching them underfoot for good measure. “My power rendered to nothing but party tricks.”

Tony shook his head, breathed heavily through his nose in frustration.

Part 4

Tony nodded at Loki, who placed the jack of hearts on top of the card. Tony flipped the cards over, and shook his head.

“Nah ah, no.” Tony wagged his index finger as he pointed at the seven of spades, and the jack of hearts. “I had an ace, where did this seven come from?”

“Can you prove that?”

Tony opened his mouth, raised an index finger as if to make a point, only to be met by a long, bland look from Loki. 

“Never mind,” Tony waved the loss away. “Hit me again. Figuratively.”

Tony and Loki were in the rec room, what passed for ‘basement’ level in the Avengers mansion. On a lark, Tony had the room suited with slot machines, roulette, and other games of chance. It was his way of bringing Las Vegas to him when he couldn’t go to Vegas - and with his team commitments - the room was always in use. Jarvis, being Jarvis, kept it in showroom shape with plush carpets, and the sort of furniture that spoke of the best comfort money could buy. Leather sofas, large enough for the whole team to crash on and do a Christmas picture if they wanted. Trays of mixed nuts and fruits on top of highly polished tables.

Blackjack card tables, done in a semi-circle, with cards and chips and all the pieces that made it a true ‘den’. 

Today, Loki had a point of place behind the card table, dressed as the card dealer, looking odd in formal wear; dark suit, white button down. He might have passed for one of those card dealers in Vegas, save for the headgear and the permanent leer.

“You trust me to cut the cards?”

“No,” Tony shook his head, his chin resting on his fist. “But that’s not the point, is it?”

Loki did not answer, only shuffled the cards with _flourish_. 

His moves were expert, preternaturally graceful. From the regular card slide, the cards folding this way - their various symbols facing upwards- to their identical patterned backs. Segued into The Spring, cards falling from one hand into another. A one handed shuffle with the right, cutting the cards in two sides, ending with a Pharaoh shuffle, as the cards alternately fell, one on top of the other, as it became a stack of fifty two cards. 

“If you ever decide to give up on the trickster god courting the end of the world and you’re feeling fine Ragnarok business, give me a call.”

Whatever comment Loki might have snarled in retort, stopped at the new voice in the room. 

“Deal me in.” 

Tony raised his head at the voice, and smiled. 

“Cap,” he greeted warmly, even though he was more _Steve_ in his civvies consisting of neat button down and slacks. “What brings you down here?”

“We finished a debrief. Tigra, Ororo and Jan went out for lunch, Luke’s gone on an errand for his mother, and everyone else is -” Steve finished with a shrug of his shoulders. “You know how it goes.”

“I guess,” Tony shifted, as he leaned against his elbows, balancing himself on the edge of the blackjack table, touching the card with his hand. “What brings you down here? Not that I don’t appreciate a friendly face, but-”

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” Steve gave Loki a nod, made a note of his card. “Hit me.”

Queen of Hearts. 

“Between running my company via proxy and trying to get away from Loki, here-” Tony rubbed his fingers against his temple. “I’ve been busy. Loki is no help at all. I’m missing something here.”

“Belief?” Steve raised his index finger, and Loki dealt another card. 

“Belief in what? We know that Loki is a god. Not a god that I necessarily believe in, but he exists- is existing. That whole, does a tree fall in the forest if no one hears it? Doesn’t apply here.”

“Perhaps,” Steve rubbed the nape of his neck absently, muscle flexing with the move. With his ruffled hair and lazy grin, Steve looked more like a guy ready to grab a wave than a shield, charging in to save the world. 

“I know that you aren’t necessarily a man of faith, Tony. No sort of belief, really. If you can’t build it, can’t touch it, it’s only a theory. I can only imagine how frustrating this must be for you.”

“Ya think?” Tony grabbed a chip, allowed it to run through his fingers. Now you see it, now you don’t. “I don’t want to go through life with Loki occupying the only spot on my dance card. I’ve combed through various books, even that _Through The Looking Glass_ theorem. The one about alternative verses?”

“Yeah?”

“Nada. Zilch.”

“Have you thought about- 

"No, don't say it-"

"-speaking to Dr Strange?”

Steve finished, as if he hadn't been interrupted.

Tony dropped the poker chip, rubbed his face with his hands. “I might have done.”

“If anyone should know about magic, and gods, he might be the one.”

“I’m going to see a Magician-”

“A _Mage_ ,” Steve corrected, ever mindful of honorifics. “He might be the the one to call.”

“Oy. Can my life get much worse?”

“You’ll figure it out,” Steve reached out, laid a hand on Tony’s shoulder. An affectionate rub, with a flex of fingers, and a thumb stroking his collar bone. “I’ve faith in you.”

Tony ran his hand through his hair, shook his head. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Steve gave Tony a crooked grin, and Tony unable to resist, returned it. A comfortable, _intimate_ exchange that only lasted a moment, but enough to to give Tony a second wind. 

Satisfied, Steve raised a corner of his cards, peered at the one underneath, and nodded at Loki. 

“One more.”

Loki did so. Six of Diamonds. 

“Six, five and ten.” Steve laughed with delight. “Twenty one.”

Tony brushed away Steve’s hand, and flicked the cards over. “The ten and five, these were the ones you started with?”

“Yeah,” Steve answered. “Why?”

Tony glared at Loki. Loki raised an eyebrow, smiled, and started to cut the cards once more.

“Oh nothing, nothing at all.”

Part 5

“You’ve had this problem with Loki for the past week, you say?”

“Yes,” Tony bit out. Himself and Loki were on the good doctor’s couch, and Dr Strange sat opposite them, Mage’d out in bright blue tunic, dark slacks. The grey at his temples, the calm tones when he spoke, plus the direct stare suggested Doctor. As in, a Doctor Tony half expected to find in one of those tony clinics in the better parts of New York. The room they occupied didn’t dissuade Tony from his initial impressions. The walls a gentle, dove grey, with interesting seascapes. Tastefully muted furniture, all sleek and low. 

The only nod to his _Mageness_ was the scarlet cloak that waved and swished at odd moments, as if it were sentient. 

“Your symptoms?”

“Loki can’t do magic, and as for me? My calculations are out of wack when he’s around. I can’t fly, the manoeuvrability on my armour is shot. So we’re off the team until we get our act together.”

Dr Strange steepled his fingers against his lips. “It is a powerful magic, I will admit. It’s myth and tradition passed down by mouth, carved into hearts.”

“At least someone understands,” Loki gave a regal nod in Dr Strange’s direction. 

“Magic,” said Tony, as haughty as the rest of them. “Is science yet to be discovered.”

Dr Strange shook his head, as he took away his hands from his mouth, and gesticulated as he spoke. “Not all magic,” he said at last. “I know this is hard for you to accept, Mr Stark, especially this aspect. All good stories do have a modicum of truth in them. Somewhere. Despite the teller of the tale”

“ _Oh_?”

“Anansi and Loki are trickster gods. Their magic is nimble, no endgame in sight. Loki will create Ragnarok in his own time, but it won’t be from malice, but mischief. Anansi lights on ceilings and walls, if you follow the tale, due to his own devilry, not-”

“Mayday, hey! Mayday!” The Avengers’ communicator squawked in Tony’s pocket. Flushing, Tony held up his hand. 

“I -”

Dr Strange only gave a wave. “I understand.”

“Jan,” Tony scrambled to his feet, absently noting Loki’s shuffle. He focused on Jan’s voice, hearing the shrieks and screams of people in the background. “What’s going on?”

“Step up, you’re tapped to bat- whoa.” Jan’s voice came over a bit strained. “ Hawkeye is over an hour away, and Captain America is kinda - occupied.”

“I’m with Loki, remember?”

“You could be playing catch with Lassie right now, bring her too. Get your suit on and get here, _yesterday_. Don’t let me ask again.”

Tony reached for his suitcase, situated beneath Dr Strange’s table. “We’re going have to call a rain check on this meeting, Dr Strange.” He made a beeline for the door, not heeding Loki’s stumble behind him.

* * *

[“Heads up!”] Tony said, clad in his Iron Man suit as he banked left, only too aware of Loki hanging off him. 

“Do you even know what you’re doing, Midgardian?” Loki yelled over the wind, and Tony blinked. 

Below them, people screamed, running helter skelter like confused ants. 

[“Just give me a minute”] Tony scanned the direction people were running from, only to follow Loki’s finger as he pointed. “Over there!”

‘Over there’ were floats. As in, a giant Snoopy, with his helmet and goggles as a World War II flying ace. Or Charlie Brown, with Scooby Doo. Normally, they were blown up balloons, held by cables to the cars on the road, bobbing up and down with the wind. Not _sentient_ , with a smiling Snoopy doing the _Happy Snoopy Dance_ down 77th Street and Central Park West. 

[“Thanksgiving isn’t until November.”] Tony hovered in the sky, still trying to get his bearings. [“What gives?”]

A blown up Fing Fang Foom, on seeing Iron Man and Loki, raised its head in their direction, opened its mouth, fire and smoke scorching the air. Yowza, Tony thought, nimbly swerving to avoid being toasted. 

“Stark!”

[“Just... shut up, Loki. Tigra! Giant Girl! Luke! Can you hear me? Over.”]

A wet cough in his head piece, as Jan came in. “Loud and clear. You made it, thank _goodness_ ”

[“What’s going on?”]

“Some kid made a wish on a star that it would be Macy’s thanksgiving -hard core. This is what we got. Our numbers are down, since our heavy hitters are away. Can you cover us from the air? I’m about to go slam Fred Flintstone back to Bedrock.”

Tony shook his head. Almost wishing that he were back in the Avengers’ mansion, trying to find two extra players for Canasta. 

[“Storm? Thor?”]

“Hot date. Iron Man, I gotta go, Pacman is chomping on down on Blinky, Pinky, Inky and Clyde on 49th.”

[“That’s a good thing, right?”]

“Only in Google at 3pm.”

[“We have to do something!”] Tony swerved, as he kept on flying, swerving from the stream of flames but it was hard going. [“Hey, can’t you do magic? Or something?”] he addressed Loki. Loki opened his hand, and gestured in the direction of the dragon. Fireworks bloomed and sparked around them, like the Fourth of July. 

“[ _Really_?]” 

“Didn’t you listen to Dr Strange?”

[“What?”]

“There’s no endgame, Stark.”

[“Are you - serious?”]

“Like Ragnarok. If you want to stop this in its tracks now, you need to abandon the endgame.”

Tony swivelled his head in Loki’s direction. Loki now hanging off his arm, his grin manic, his eyes lit for the first time with something other than malice. 

[“I don’t-”]

“I cannot tell you. Look!”

The information on the state of his teammates fed through the scanners, as Tony called up the rest of the Avengers on screen. Giant Girl, at full size had the head of Pac Man in her hands, trying to cram its jaws closed. Tigra, claws out, slashing and avoiding the swipes and karate chops of Hong Kong Phooey. Captain America - _Steve_ , his shield braced under the blows of Captain Cave Man’s club. Right now, with Loki in _his head_ , the words playing across his senses as they were music. 

_Teamwork is a tricky thing, eh?_

“No, you still don’t understand.” Loki’s eyes flashed with frustration. “The old stories, the old ways. Men don’t believe in them anymore, especially a man of your … leanings.” 

_“Because he doesn’t _need_ to believe, because he has made his own legend. What is a god to a non believer, Loki?”_

[“It isn’t magic, is it?”] Tony said, with each word voiced, the pieces of the puzzle slotting in. [“That was never the point, only a means to an end. The deeds... the stories. They change, there’s no endgame.”] 

“Yes.” 

[“What - what do you need me to do?”] 

“Grasp for whatever tricks of faith you believe, Midgardian. Trust in the chicanery. I’ll do the rest.” 

_Trick_ At Loki’s behest, Tony closed his eyes, called up the points of faith he carried. The ghost of his mother’s touch as she ruffled his hair, pressed her cheek to his. The warmth of the Avengers, and wasn’t that a trick of faith? Thrown together, at first, bumping and stumbling over each other before they became a _team_. Going one better - transforming his childhood lodging into a place of affection, a home. 

Pepper - a happy accident of hire. His PA, all heart and wanting to the right thing. Happy, solid and steady. Rhodey- ruffling his hair on greeting, friendship as soft and comfortable as a favourite sweater. That’s the dice thrown, an offer, acceptance. Pepper. Happy. Rhodey. They might have worked, might have not. Changes, a hinky trick. 

Teamwork, the concept a bluff - until it wasn’t- not when Steve lead from the front, with good humor and heart. 

The _trick_ \- there was no endgame. not with friendship. _“You’ll figure it out,” Steve reached out, laid a hand on Tony’s shoulder. An affectionate rub, with a flex of fingers, and a thumb stroking his collar bone. “I’ve faith in you._ ” 

_Luke Cage, and Tony on a boat. Luke rubbing the palms of his hands, a laugh as he repeated the terms put forth.“Fifty bucks for reeling the biggest fish in? That’s a sucker’s bet. You’re on_

If they lost this round, it didn’t matter. They were Avengers, and would come back, have the chance for a do over. The endgame? There was no endgame. The trick is - they’d do it together. 

Tony grasped and held those points of faith, raised them up. Thought of the trick - characters that shouldn’t exist, shouldn’t be walking on the streets of New York. _What if I - let’s see what happens_. Felt the complexion of the air change around him, the shapes quickening within him. Cow. Smooth curves of woman. Prancing mare. Magic at his (Loki’s) fingertips, as they gestured as one. Felt the slow slide of the smile across his (Loki’s) face. _Intent_. Doing things because he _could_ , the distortion changing on a dime. 

With new eyes - Tony felt the _dimensions_ around him. Further than fourth, fifth, sixth - reality malleable as clay. Time as wide as the span of his palm, sticky as taffy. Of _course_ , what people considered myths were just sport. At the end of it, the winner was the one who held the last trick. _Yes_ Tony opened his palm, faced the dragon, saw the fragility and longing of a child’s wish under the solid iridescence of scales. Muted fire with water and snow. Spread his blanket of power, shaping the fabric of reality, of needs stronger than wishes. He always held the last trick. The floats faded away, Jan grappling nothing but air now. Luke making to punch Snoopy, but got a deflated balloon in his hand instead. Steve crouching under his shield, steeling himself for blows that vanished. Laughter, relief washed through Tony’s mind. With each hitch of laughter, Loki’s presence inched to the margins. Tony - now solidly, wholly himself again. 

Part Five

“Look ma!” Spider man said, as he scudded across the ceiling, and having everyone’s attention, he lifted his hands off the ceiling, held in place by his feet. “No hands!"

Tony shook his head, sipping from his mug of coffee as he moved towards the balcony. Sunday morning, eight o'clock precise, the sun not yet warmed on his face. He heard the voices, so distinct, and each of their own sphere of influence, he imagined he could almost see them. Trickster gods in their own forms, as they walked through the Avengers’ garden, eyeing the topiary. Anansi, sharply dressed in navy pinstriped suit, Loki, a head and shoulder taller than his companion, clad in his jokester garb of green, with gold recurved hat, and gloves. Their shadows on grass still changing, still flickering. 

“It is done, Brer Anansi, the stories are yours again.”

Brer Anansi sucked the spit from his teeth with mock rancour. “As if you had hold of these tales, Loki Laufeyson. But it’s good, I grew too comfortable, there’s always room for a good trick. We will meet again, I’m sure of it.”

“Next time, when we play, no mortals.”

“There will always be mortals,” Anansi pointed back at the mansion with his chin. “Without them, we wouldn’t exist. There’s a reason why we love and fear them so.”

“Enough.” Loki raised his hand. “We go around in circles, like a dog chasing its tail.”

“Or a snake eating his, but understood. More time, Loki.” Anansi turned towards his shadow, stepped in it, his form and shadow disappearing under the rays of the sun. On the air, a snatch of a tune left behind. _This lunchtime I ate Tiger’s stew, Tiger’s stew, Tiger’s stew/ This lunchtime I ate Tiger’s stew, and Tiger never know_

With annoyance twisting his features, Loki disappeared in a flash of light.

Tony stayed out there on the balcony, not stirring until Steve stepped out on the balcony, and lightly patted Tony on the shoulder.

“It’s good to have you back.”

Tony smiled. “It’s good to be back. The next time I wake up in a cell with an Asgardian God, you know what I’m going to tell myself?”

“It’s Tuesday, strange things always happen on a Tuesday?”

“No,” Tony shook his head. “I’ll tell myself it’s a trick. That it will work out, because we’re - Avengers.”

“From where I’m standing, that sounds like faith.”

Tony stared at Steve, shook his head, and smiled. “You won’t hear that from me.”

Steve gave Tony’s shoulder a friendly bump, and they stared out into the gardens, and waited for the city to wake up. 

Fin


End file.
